


why can't we give love?

by cinnamonlipstick



Series: todos somos seres humanos (we are all human beings) [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Cinnamon Roll Peter Parker, Gun Violence, Hurt Peter Parker, Immigration & Emigration, POC Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter-centric, Poor Peter Parker, Precious Peter Parker, Protect him he doesn't deserve this, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 05:00:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13182879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonlipstick/pseuds/cinnamonlipstick
Summary: peter parker lives a life full of dreaming and fearing. he fears for himself, his family, and the world. he dreams for a better life. a coping mechanism perhaps, an escape from reality. he yearns, and wants, and dreams. but he is desperately clinging to something he cannot fully reach.AKA a more in-depth look into peter parker (if he were a POC immigrant) and his past full of dreams and fears*prequel to "in the eye of a hurricane (there is quiet)" but it's not mandatory to read it-notes in fic will give some information for newbies*





	why can't we give love?

**Author's Note:**

> hi all! thanks for reading. in case you haven't read "in the eye of a hurricane (there is quiet)", here is some info that will make this story better!
> 
> in this universe that i created, peter parker is not only a high schooler and spider-man, but he was born in a small town- guanajuato, mexico. he came to america without notice of the government, therefore he is an undocumented immigrant. he lives in fear of being deported, and grapples with being a brown, male teenager in queens- while juggling his other responsibilities- and dealing with demons from his tragic and traumatic past. 
> 
> let's just say, he's got a lot on this plate. spider-man homecoming is relatively basically the same plot, but modified character. also, at the end of the movie, he does still refuse to become an avenger. but soon, his mentor, tony stark comes to him one day, plagued by nightmares- and begs him to help him because he feels something big is coming and no one believes him. so, peter parker, becomes an avenger. and the avengers, aren't big fans of him, he's young, naive, stupid- and team relations are tense. in the first installment of my series, the plot is basically how peter parker needs to go back to his hometown because of HYDRA and all that jazz soo yeah. 
> 
> this series depicts the struggle of this alternate universe character, and how i think it would be different if marvel chose a character like pedro perez to play spider-man. it depicts the struggle of peter parker being a person of color, and being treated differently. being the only POC in the room, feeling out of place with the avengers etc. 
> 
> Aunt May is the only one who knows about peter being undocumented. 
> 
> OK! please enjoy, thank you all for reading.

 

when pedro was six years old, he learned, that the world wasn’t perfect. that the world wasn’t like what he thought. but alas, six year old pedro had hope, a yearning for a better world.  

 

when other kids his age were interacting with their environments, engaging with their peers in loud and whiny voices- pedro was timid, cautious, he would rather watch his community than rather be a part of it. pedro was always different. 

 

pedro was always ahead of the other kids his age in both maturity and comprehension of what they were learning, always eager for more. 

he would sit on the ground of his village in guanajuato, mexico -in the feverish summer days, with clammy humidity and wheezing crowds. constructing toys, drawing, learning from nothing, observing the village people anything to quench his thirst for more. his parents at work, would never know how he would leave the house to play.

 

pedro wanted change in the world, in his world. pedro had dreams of changing said world, with inventions and science experiments. his village, as lovely as it was, didn’t satisfy him. he wanted more than the mundane life he held.

 

pedro would take apart the appliances in the household and rebuild them piece by piece-making them better, he taught himself how to read letters and make sounds, he had lively dreams and a beaming expression on his face- with a wise brain (for his age).

 

eager eyes, ruffled brown hair, and with dirt smudged onto his face-pedro was ready to face the world, stars, moon and universe.

 

when the day ended, pedro would look up at the sky. the sun would come down, painting the horizon in oranges and yellows, an ombre of fleeting beauty. pedro would scurry back to his dwelling, awaiting for his parent’s arrival, drawings grasped in his clammy hands and wide eager eyes.

 

he would wait for his parents, but only to be disappointed when they came back, melancholy. he didn’t understand, why were they so sad?

 

pedro did not understand much, but he understood few things. he understood the downcast looks his parents shared with one another. he understood how his parents would speak in hushed tones, whispering words like “ _inmigramos_ ” and choppy phrases like “ _pedro.. necesita una mejor vida_ ”.

 

he did not understand that, and why they were discussing it. pedro was scared.

 

he understood how his mamá would discreetly slide more supplements and food onto his makeshift plate. how she would come back home from her job, fatigued and exhausted down to the bone, but her eyes would light up and she take one look at his miserable expression,

pinch his cheeks and said “ _pedro, respiras, va a estar bien. tienes esperanza._ ”

 

he hoped his mamá was right, as he would go to sleep every night with dreams of changing the world. for him, for his family, for his village, for his community, for the better.

* * *

 

when pedro was seven years old, his village raised money for him, for a better education- a private school in a nearby city. his parents kissed him goodbye, his dearest abuela squeezed him tightly, as he departed with anguished yet bright eyes.

 

he spent the whole ride hugging his small dirt-smudged backpack, and gazing longingly at the picturesque landscape flying past his window. he would look around, and he saw other children, a few years older than him, chattering away. he took one look at their shiny new shoes, ironed uniforms, and toothy smiles.  he gazed at his beat down shoes and his rumpled uniform, it was then when seven year old pedro understood that he was different than other people. it was then, at seven years old, pedro felt shame. what he didn’t understand was why.

 

as he turned back to his window, pedro dreamed, he dreamed what it would be like to go to school, to get a job, to earn money and come back home with gifts for his family and shiny new shoes.

 

he imagined the joyful beaming faces of his family, overjoyed at his success. pedro has always wanted to make his town proud of him.  he has always wanted to belong..

 

as the days passed at his new school, pedro threw himself into his studies, apt and hungry for knowledge.

 

he ignored the whispers of the other students. He ignored the dirty looks they threw at him. he ignored the snide comments.

 

they were just jealous, he would tell himself..

 

pedro had bigger priorities than his peers, he had a family that needed help. his dreams about being an inventor and scientist were forgotten, for at a mere 7 and a half years old, pedro had a heart of gold filled with sorrow and desire.

* * *

  

when pedro was eight years old, he experienced true sadness. the earth-shaking, overwhelmingly numbing feeling of panic and depression.

 

as he watched his town crumble, tears in his eyes, hiding in a ditch, pedro didn’t know what he was going to do. he had nothing left.

 

people fled, running as buildings were obliterated. an appalling amount of water flooded in. families separated. kids alone.

 

he was powerless. people were crying, fleeing around him and he had never felt _so_ useless.

 

_inútil.._

 

pedro was soaked. unkind wind lashed around pedro, the pouring of rain drenching and splashing across his face as he ran and ran for safety. lightning crackled above him, the wind and sky above him crying in booming claps of thunder.  

 

he found an abandoned hut. pedro sat huddled in the corner, sobbing hysterically. he couldn’t breathe, the wind, his family, his town. he trembled, hand shaking.

 

they’re _gone_. pedro sucked in a shaky breath, and let himself break down. he had no food, no water, nothing.

 

_his abuelos, his mamá, his papa, his friends, his family. nowhere. alone. dead. how? why?_

 

 _were they alive? d-did they die? are they worrying?_   what was he going to do?

 

pedro’s thoughts consumed him, painfully and slowly. he lost track of time. minutes? days? hours? the lightning and wind lessened, a low howling rather than a hearty roar.

 

slowly, cautiously, young pedro emerged out of his safe house, with tears had trailed down his cheeks, eyes puffy.

 

disbelief and horror flooded through him as he gazed at his once home and town. and as he looked down at his dirty, beat down, shoes- pedro was reminded of the cold, harsh reality.

 

thus, at eight years old, he no longer had dreams of buying brand new shoes and becoming wealthy for his family. from then on, pedro realized having a true family is worth more than wealth.

 

all pedro dreamed of, in that moment, was his mama and papa. alas, pedro’s dreams never did come true.  

 

* * *

 

when pedro was nine years old, he realized that no one cared for him. that he was worthless, a waste of space, that he deserved to _go back to where he came from_ (they didn't even know he was an immigrant) _,_ as iterated by his slimey new foster father and his new pale skinned classmates.

 

if pedro was any other child, he would have cried, lost hope forever. alas, pedro has gone through a lot, he reassures himself, a few beer belly crusty men and sticky children can’t do much (right?).

 

pedro knew that not _all_ of the foster families were evil no-good people, but pedro was simply another statistic, another child to find a house for. his care workers truly tried their hardest, but at the end of the day, they looked past the bruises on his neck. the sadness his eyes.

 

pedro learned to just keep quiet, nobody would ever want to hear his thoughts and ideas.  he didn’t matter. and he accepted that. he was okay with that.

 

he just wanted his family back. and as the days passed, his memories faded, oh so slowly, but surely. what was once vivid memories of his family, drifted into into blurry dreams of his mother’s smile, or his hazy rememberings of his father’s voice.

 

no one accepted who he truly was here.

 

pedro had “silly” dreams though, he dreamed that someone big and amazing- like iron man or captain america would sling an arm across his shoulder and tell him they were proud of him, that he was enough.

 

pedro would gaze mesmerized, at the clips on the heroic acts of tony stark on tv every day.

 

pedro needed a hero. someone to save him from the glass shards of beer bottles hurled across the room, the toxic words thrown at him, the sickeningly prominent bruises. _all of it._

 

pedro learned, that in life, sometimes, you have to be your own hero.

 

at nine years old, pedro had dreams of heroes. whether it was iron man saving him, or even pedro being his own superhero- standing up to his foster father- pedro needed saving.

 

unbeknownst to pedro, in many years, he would learn that being a hero is hard. very hard.

* * *

 when pedro was ten years old, peter was fearful. it was like he was living a life that wasn’t his. he goes through a cycle each day, and returns back to himself feeling more and more broken.

 

pedro didn’t know why though, what was wrong with him? he just wanted to be normal, with a normal life and a normal family (pedro would learn his definition of “normal” is different that most).

 

he didn’t go to school anymore, couldn’t make any friends, didn’t get hugs or kisses from his parents, no compliments or praise. 

 

he didn’t want what he had.

 

he didn’t want any more prickly needles and cold metal cots. he didn’t want the anesthetics. he didn’t want the daily taunts from the workers of his adopted “father”, he didn’t want the “affirmations” from said father. he didn’t want to be experimented on, he didn’t want to be better like richard told him he should be.

 

_"don't you want to be better? like captain america, he did this with no complaint. you're useless, brat."  
_

 

pedro was at a point in his life, in which he wanted everything to change, but at the same time, peter wanted no change to come to him.

 

no more foster families. no more experiments. no more alcohol. no more needles. no more sadness and pain. that was pedro’s dream. he yearned for his days in guanajuato. 

 

you don’t know what you got till it’s gone..

* * *

 when pedro when eleven years old, richard parker conducted his last experiment on him (they both did not know it would be his last).

 

he was supposed to come out better, much like captain america, with stamina and super strength and healing. he was supposed to be super-human.

 

instead, turned out he was more super-spider. apparently, richard, well, he had worked with oscorp for that time, and they had “accidently mixed DNA and had it injected it into him with a spider”.

 

as a result, pedro endured harrowing hours in a foggy fever state, with pulsating headaches and sickening waves of nausea. delirious, murmuring to himself as he rocked back and forth- memories from his childhood threatening him, taunting him.

 

it was _excruciating_.

 

when he was relatively conscious, he soon discovered he was enhanced. he had absurdly abnormal abilities. his strength, on par with captain america- if not _stronger_. his stamina was increased and he had super-healing. he had enhanced senses (that was terrible in the first few days) and perhaps the strangest of all, he could stick to things. any surface, he could hang off.

 

and the white coat men, as pedro called them, told him more superhuman/spider abilities may emerge in his lifetime.

 

pedro wanted to throw up in that moment. he forced the rising bile back down. 

 

_breathe in, breathe out._

 

richard and mary parker departed immediately after this discovery to the airport, booking a plane to a scientific convention, they said, to share this “breakthrough”.

 

they barely spared him a glance. because after all, he was only a guinea pig to them.

 

two hours later their departure, pedro got a phone call. he remembers the call vividly. the hospital called, told him his adoptive parents had passed away in a plane crash.

 

**dead.**

 

pedro had dropped the phone in shock. his vision blurred, his heart rate rapidly increasing. he trembled, quaking with bewilderment.

 

_he couldn’t breathe, they were dead, where will he go? he has spider powers now too, he is gonna die. oh no. breathe. in. out. in. out. what is he going to do?_

 

he didn’t feel sadness. he didn’t feel happiness. should he be sad? happy? angry? pedro didn’t know what to feel, or how. eventually, CPS came, once again, to retrieve him. he was delivered to one of their offices with care workers and lawyers, sat in tense conversation as may and ben parker came to pick him up.

 

he sat in the uncomfortable plastic chairs there, unbelievably small in his hoodie, looking down at his scuffed shoes. his brain whispered toxic thoughts to him, as he swung his feet and wrung his hands together absentmindedly.

 

he remembers vividly, soft-spoken words from his new care worker, urging him to meet his new family. relatives of mary parker, they said.

 

he rose his chin, looked in the eyes of may and ben. the lady (may, they said) had  thick brown hair and circular glasses, her gaze was warm and inviting- her eyes filled with deep concern. the man beside her, ben, was tall, and his eyes- concerned and welcoming too.

 

they were holding hands, they seemed almost interconnected in a way. pedro noticed how they often shared glances with one another. pedro longed to share some kind of language like that with someone- someone who understands.

 

and as pedro was led away, may’s hand on the small of his back- leading him home, pedro had a good feeling.

 

maybe it would be okay, maybe he could stop dreaming.

 

but for now, pedro dreamed that perhaps, hopefully, may and ben parker are much more different than mary and richard. he dreams of a safe, happy family with them.

* * *

 when pedro was thirteen years old, he realized that because of the color of his skin, people treat him differently.

 

pedro had three rules for living in queens, new york, as a brown male teenager.

 

one, never wear dark hoodies or “thug” clothing. if he does, people (usually white suburban families) often avert their eyes in the streets or on the subway, they hold distrust and cautiousness in their eyes- like he’s some kind of child criminal- running away from his family or committing a felony.

 

two, if a police officer ever confronts him or even is near to him- keep your hands in sight, stay calm and speak in a respectful tone even if the confrontation is unwarranted.

 

three, always treat people with kindness. don’t live up to the stereotype. don’t roll your eyes or seeth in anger when strangers approach you with offensive comments. be respectful.

 

pedro lives by these rules. he recognizes the sad but fundamental importance of them. he treads carefully when talking with police- doesn’t travel anywhere by plane, cannot get entangled with the administration, for if his name gets in the system, if the government realizes he was quite actually smuggled into america, with no visa- he’s done for. the government would realize something was fishy.  

 

he knows he is undocumented. and he doesn’t know what to do.

 

in the eyes of many in america, he is nothing but a parasite. a menace to this country, that he’ll steal jobs and resources. he is someone who should be deported, expelled. he doesn't belong. 

 

pedro lives each day in fear, that one day, he will step out of his house and never come back again. that he will be forced to go back to mexico.

 

he knows he is lucky to be here, to have this opportunity. but it is so hard. some days he doesn’t even know how he got here.

 

when he entered the foster care system, he told them that his parents were alcoholics and drug abusers (in kid talk of course), that they forgot about him and abused him-dumped him on the street. which was why he didn’t pop up in the radar of the government. his lie followed through, because who were they to deny a bruised and beaten kid?

 

but now, at thirteen years old, pedro was scared more than ever. the government was cracking down on undocumented immigrants in america. the news scared him. he needed to do something.

 

in fear, pedro broke the law, he used his knack for computers and his genius-ness to freaking hack into government files. it took weeks, getting through every single firewall and layer, and pedro was oh-so careful, using a laptop and server no one could trace.

 

he changed his name, pedro perez turned into peter parker. he smoothed over some facts. his new history was that he was born in queens to unidentified parents who left him out on the streets. he lived homeless for years, until CPS took him in. soon, richard and mary parker adopted him but were soon killed in a plane crash. their relatives, may and ben parker took him in and he is “living a happy life” in queens.

 

the moment he finished typing the fille, he was filled with an unexplainable mixture of of horror and relief.

 

he.. he just hacked into government files, and illegally changed his personal file. but he was safe, right? well, he still didn’t have a passport and still should be extra careful, but this was just an extra safety precaution right? a little safety net if he falls..

 

_he just hacked into government files._

 

he shut his laptop, and held his head in his hands. he was only thirteen years old, and he’s committed three major felonies in his lifetime. and he couldn’t tell anyone about his problems..

 

so, in heat of the moment,  ~~pedro~~  peter ran in tears to his aunt may and uncle ben, and spilled almost all his secrets (he only told them about him undocumented status and childhood in mexico, _not his time in fostercare)_. he remembers their look of shame and disappointment on their faces. that soon faded though, as expressions of deep sorrow and pity took its place. they wrapped him with blankets, hugged him, and told him affirmations. they had agreed to not take any more action, let it be. and see what happens. they told him they would protect him.

 

“ _you are not alone anymore peter._ ” he remembers his uncle’s soft words as he held him. 

 

thus, at thirteen years old, pedro became peter and he dreamed of living a life not full of secrets and fear.

* * *

 

when peter was fourteen years old, his family was broken once again. 

 

it was about 10 pm. he and ben were in their local corner store, grabbing some ice cream. florescent lights beamed upon them, light ringing of the bulbs. peter had  _just_ wanted some super fudge chunk ice cream. 

 

suddenly, the next thing he knew, the door swung open, a man, a ski mask, a  _gun._ he was talking, threatening them. peter couldn't breathe. 

 

"no one make a move" he said.

 

his gun was pointed at them, a warning. he approached the now empty cash register, scooping up what he wanted.

 

his uncle ben took a step towards him, opening his mouth hesitantly. 

 

 _boom boom._ two shots. it was so fast. _no, no, no._

 

ben jerked from the impact, dark red bloomed across his torso like a plague. blood splattered. it wasn't like the movies; it wasn't in slow-motion. it happened in two seconds. shock was plastered across ben's face. 

 

he fell back, clattering across the tile floor. the red didn't stop spreading. the thief ran from the scene.

 

peter stood in utter horror, no. no no no. he fell onto his knees. he pressed his hands to the wound, frantically trying to stop the blood. _no. no. no._

 

_it wasn't stopping. why wasn't it stopping??_

 

this wasn't happening.  _but it was._

 

"ben" peter cried out. he was sobbing. 

 

ben was blinking slowly, as if trying to process what had just happened. he was fading _. no no no no no._

 

'p-peter. peter." peter looked at his uncle, he had called 911, blood was on his hands, his clothes. 

  

"y-ou are not alone." ben said.

 

peter clasped his hand.  _it would be okay, right?_  his mama, she would say, it will be okay.

 

_please. anyone. help._

 

the ambulance had come, they spoke in hushed whispers.

 

peter paid no mind. his vision blurred, he trembled. police detached him from ben, they were speaking to him. peter wasn't listening. it was like everything was underwater, he couldn't hear. he couldn't breathe. he couldn't see. 

 

_"he's in shock."_

people moved around him, trying to engage with him. he paid no mind. 

 

 _"peter, sweetie, it's me. may."_  

 

_aunt may._

 

he whipped his head up, eyes blinking furiously to focus his vision. he took in the image of may, her eyes were red and puffy, clothing disheveled, hair frizzy.

 

his voice was timid. "may?"

 

she wrapped him in a hug, as they both cried. "i-i'm sorry may. i couldn't save him. i'm sorry, i'm  _sorry."_ he choked on his words. 

she whispered affirmations to his head, but all he could think was  _it should've been me, it should've been me, it should've been me._

 

 _"_ hey, pete. look at me." he looked up at may, stern expression on her face. tears trailed down both their faces. 

 

"you could not have done anything.  _it's not your fault."_  

 

but he could've. he has super-strength, and power, and enhanced genetics. he  _could've done something, he should've done something._

 

they drove back in silence.

 

they sat on the couch together. wrapped in a blanket. no words were spoken, but they understood each other. they were both thinking the same thing. they both dreamed of their uncle and husband _back._

* * *

 

 when peter was fifteen years old, he became spider-man. he was getting tired of the constant lack of action in new york, the lack of initiative and caring. 

 

_with great power, comes great responsibility._

 

peter had great power, he needs to use it. and he can, to help his community.  _that's all peter has wanted._

 

of course, being spider-man wasn't easy. it was exhausting, it was hard, it was strenuous and painful- but  _it was so worth it._

 

the city- seeing their thank you's, and appreciation because he had saved someone, or simply helped an old lady cross the street. it made him happy, knowing he was doing something good in the world. 

 

he also knew that most people were expecting a white man under the mask instead of a brown boy, but peter couldn't do much about that. nor could he do much about NYPD and their blatant hate to him, because, of course, he was a menace to the city, but peter was used to it by now. 

 

but it was all okay, because he _was a hero._

 

no one knew about his outings as spider-man. and he intended to keep it that way. if may found out.. she can't take another tragedy. and he needs to help new york. he loved the avengers and all (he would be lying if he said he didn't have dreams of meeting the avengers), but they don't look out for the little guys, you know? 

 

so when,  _the_ tony stark, his  _hero,_ comes to consult him, telling him captain america went crazy- of course he'll go..

 

he's read up on the sokovia accords, they're not perfect, but they're a start. and people think it's abusing enhanced individuals rights like wanda maximoff, but the only reason she was restrained, he learned, was because she  _killed_ people then continued to break the law. 

 

so peter went with mr.stark, hesitantly, after asking several questions about how they were getting there (can't run into any passport or documentation problems, now can he?), tony told him they were taking a private jet-so of course peter went with him. 

 

he did feel a pang of disappointment when he realized that mr.stark only consulted him because he needed more ammo against cap, but still.. mr.stark chose him, a teenage nobody, to help him. 

 

when he returned from his trip, he couldn't take the secret-keeping anymore, so well, he told his aunt may about his outings as spider-man. he explained almost all of it (he neglected to tell her about the part when he was experimented on by his crazy adoptive father, but no biggie right?). he told her about tony stark and the "internship". 

 

she was seething mad, understandably.  but glad he told her, and she  _did_ set more boundaries regarding his spider-manning, and well, peter was okay with that, because at least he had someone to lean on. 

 

and yes, he had "tony stark" but peter understood by now, months later, after berlin with no word, that tony stark probably forgot about him. because after all, peter is a nobody. but peter's accepted it. 

 

so peter proceeds with his unconventional life as calmly as he can (not very) cause you know, there's a super scary winged guy called  _the vulture_ now and  _oh,_ right- people are being deported from the US, and  _oh_ , he has to juggle being spider-man and where is tony stark when you need him ??

* * *

when peter is fifteen and a half years old, peter is asked to be an  _avenger_ for the  _second time._

 

peter and mr.stark had fostered a fond mentor and protege relationship by then, to outsiders, it was normal most days to see peter eating cereal at the counter in the compound, or to see some kid following stark around with a clipboard and stark tablet under his arm. 

 

peter had slept over at the tower that evening, they were working on spidey upgrades and they had worked overtime. peter was sleeping in his room at the tower, when he was suddenly alerted that mr.stark wanted to speak with him in a lab.

 

he remembers walking into the lab, stopping in place when he saw tony. he looked stricken by pain, like he saw something. 

_he looked scared._

 

he remembers how mr.stark shook his shoulders, told him something larger than all of us was coming and soon. how piece by piece, our world will crumble. how  _no one believed tony,_ how they thought it was just a joke. 

 

he remembers how desperate tony looked. he remembers how broken tony sounded when he talked about how they needed to band together the avengers. 

 

so when tony asked him to join the avengers, peter said yes. 

 

but now, walking into the compound, to train while may was on a retreat and to meet the rest of the avengers without suit and mask, peter has never felt so unsure of his decision. _peter wouldn't belong._

 

and, like always, peter was right. he didn't belong. he had walked in with mr.stark, his hand slung over his shoulder. they were both met with icy expressions and hesitant eyes. 

 

"who's the kid, stark?"

 

"this is peter parker, spider-man"

 

they had rose their eyebrows but shook his hand, all eyeing tony and him nervously like they were bombs about to go off. peter knew team relations wouldn't go back to normal after the accords, but this was ridiculous.. 

 

they didn't even know peter and they were already judging him. 

 

he supposes that's nothing new though.. 

 

so alas, at age fifteen and a half, peter parker became an avenger. he dreamt of this moment for years, but he should've realized they would just underestimate him. 

 

toxic words from his past ricochet like bullets in his mind. 

 

_you're just a useless little boy. go back to where you came from. brat. do you speak en-glish? hola?  you're worthless_

 

but peter had hope. he has dreams that he'll belong, someday, and he can change the world. maybe even with an  _actual_ team. 

 

but for now, as mr.stark sends him a reassuring smile and ruffle on the hair- peter is reminded that he has his aunt may and mr.stark. 

 

he is reminded by his uncle ben's words,  _you are not alone._

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> wow, hope you all liked it! bittersweet ending, but this fic isn't supposed to be particularly happy, it's supposed to just be peter-centric and tell you about his struggles and life. 
> 
> i know it's pretty crappy sorry i wrote it reallyyy quickly! anyways, please leave kudos or comment if you do wish to (i love reading comments and i'll try to reply to each one). 
> 
> hope you enjoyed it!


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